


The Way We Weren't

by AbsoluteNegation



Category: Saiyuki, Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-01-12
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:52:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3165467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsoluteNegation/pseuds/AbsoluteNegation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is definitely a very long, very serious, very insightful fic to be written about the intellectual and emotional consequences of Gojyo and Hakkai regaining their memories of being Kenren and Tenpou. </p>
<p>....this is not that story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way We Weren't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theskywasblue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/gifts).



 

 

The boundaries between them blurred and lifted as gently as mist in the morning.

Hakkai was a week from forty-three the first time the word _Taisho_ fell from him, slipping its way into a gentle flirtation, and the lilt of his voice between syllables that should have formed Gojyo's name was a thing that swayed quietly between always-was and never-before, so strangely familiar that he didn't even realise he'd done it until well after Gojyo failed to notice that he had. Even the surprise of realisation was a quiet thing, rippling gently through him to disappear into uncertainty.

On his forty-third birthday, he smiled gently at Gojyo between mouthfuls of a truly excellent hearty soup he'd made for the occasion and placed the word carefully down between them, embedded in a query about Goku's plans to stay with them for a weekend so he could take in the fall festival, and once again Gojyo responded as easily as if Hakkai had called him what he expected to be called.

It took less than eight weeks after that before Hakkai realised that he had made a similar error himself, and that only from the uncharacteristic fumble of Gojyo's hand on his lighter.

A week after that, the dreams started.

It was probably a terrible idea not to be alarmed by this, but Hakkai's decision-making skills were often quite impaired, and he was - he was quite aware - prone to putting off unhappy conversations and inconvenient realities, settling himself into the comfortable grooves of routine as he'd settled himself into their house and his garden and the odd mix of tutoring (Hakkai), freelance house repair (Gojyo) and semi-coerced Sanzo-mandated missions (Hakkai and Gojyo) that made up their days. It was easy not to speak of the fact that he saw Gojyo-but-not-Gojyo in his dreams almost every week, little glimpses of conversations and memories and thoughts that the ghost of himself past dripped into his mind, like paint into running water, there and then gone and there again to stay, each fragment of sense and memory influencing everything, informing everything, silently and carefully.

It was even simpler not to seem to notice the way they reached little tendrils of layer and colour into the iron serenity of Hakkai’s quotidian. He could, for instance, ignore the odd moments of surprise that neither of them owned guns, because they quite simply didn’t, and that was how it was. Gojyo’s scent was a thing so utterly known - leather, skin, sweat and smoke - so completely soaked into his bones that he didn’t really ever have to think about how the smoke itself was a little different now - not much, not much at all, just enough to have been able to disorient him for two-second slices of every other week or month or year, if he ever thought about it, which of course he didn’t, and so it was most certainly not a problem. It was easy to avoid speculating on how his appearance might be (improved, worsened) manipulated by growing out his hair, and easier still to not think about the fact that he’d delayed and delayed and delayed his haircut. It was quite easy to do that, until the day that Gojyo actually startled himself into falling over when he stumbled across Hakkai in a darkened room, gasping out the wrong - right - wrong-and-right name. Or perhaps it was until the day Hakkai found himself considering a leather duster on sale in the market only to see Gojyo watching him with an utterly unfathomable expression. Or perhaps it was the way they were sliding back and forth between names so easily now, and yet it was completely natural to never make that slip in front of a third person. Or perhaps…

Well, perhaps it hadn’t been all that easy at any point.

That realisation only seemed to spur the erosion of the walls of protective memory, the steady pulse of the past into the present like backwaters under spring tides, slow welling-up of knowledge and understanding. It was, however, still remarkably easy to comprehend, to assimilate and accept and simply be with it, in a way that Hakkai had never expected. The thought wandered through his mind, sometimes, that this was probably the beginning of the kind of thing that some would call enlightenment, and while the thought made him laugh until his stomach ached the first time it occurred to him, the only other explanation was that it was some form of curse. Which, to be fair, would have been exactly the kind of surgically precise irony to which Hakkai was accustomed. For a curse, however, it seemed remarkably….quiescent, almost, just a slow blossoming that nuzzled at the edges of his thoughts and his days. Their thoughts and their days, since it seemed Gojyo was sharing his experience more or less exactly. Almost to his surprise, learning the facts of their lives in Tenkai only served to settle him, to quietly reinforce his (formerly odd) certainty that their present was worthy of their past, and that the past was worth the present, as horrific as their younger lives had been. Goku was safe, Togenkyou was stable, and all of them were out from under Tenkai’s thumb - that was….well, he wouldn’t have presumed to make that judgement for Gojyo, but for himself, that was worth it. He brought that notion up, masked enough that Gojyo could pretend he didn’t know what Hakkai was asking about, but he’d responded bluntly and unhesitatingly that of course it was worth it, and with the kind of expression that all but dared Hakkai to fight him on it. Oddly enough, Hakkai had simply believed him. Even more surprisingly, he’d found himself at a place where he could even accept it. Which was surprising, really. Of all the things Hakkai had expected out of this peculiar haunting-that-wasn’t and subtle crisis of identity, a slowly developing sense of inner peace certainly hadn’t been it.

It seemed, though, as if some dam had broken down between them with that question, words unlocked between them that they hadn’t even known to think to speak before this odd and uninvited grace. They found themselves talking about their past lives at odd intervals - past _life_ , at this point, though that singularity raised some questions in and of itself - and even if it was never entirely a thing without teeth, never quite stripped of the violence and pain into which it had all exploded at the end, he found himself looking forward to it, in ways he couldn’t quite describe. It was comforting, if surreal, to think of the uncompromising _certainty_ of them, despite Heaven and Earth being arrayed against them in unfortunately literal fashion. Still, it seemed something to only handle at moments of great gravity, in quiet contemplation and with careful words - something fragile and precise that could shatter or warp at the slightest careless word, something that they could only touch with serious, clear-headed intent.

Naturally, this was precisely how they found themselves discussing it while moderately drunk.

~~x~~

It was on one of the Days They Avoided Mentioning that things escalated - or perhaps devolved - into complete surreality. 

Their calendars were filled with deliberate absences of significances. Though Gojyo’s birthday unfailingly prompted a special meal from Hakkai and a visit from Goku, who brought a Sanzo (who loudly disclaimed any knowledge of particular specialness each time, as utterly incriminating as such an avowal was), Hakkai’s nameday tended to pass quietly. There was even more definitely no acknowledgement of Gonou’s birthday, which was also the birthday of a Person the Mentioning of whom was equally assiduously Avoided.

Chief among the anniversaries that remained carefully unspoken was, of course, the day that Gojyo found Gonou on his path. Hakkai would produce some carefully unrelated reason to cook a large meal, Gojyo would - purely on a whim, naturally - buy some expensive sake, and stumble across that book that Hakkai had wanted, Gojyo would come home to find that Hakkai had happened to be at the new clothing store a few weeks ago and had just so found a nice new jacket (or shirt, or pair of suspiciously-well-fitting leather pants) that he’d simply forgotten to give Gojyo, and so on. It was a system that worked beautifully for them, as they had long since concluded that discussing the thing would be far less comfortable than simply enjoying it. 

The trailing end of this anniversary, like most of its predecessors, was wrapped in the warm contented fog that mild overeating in the afternoon and strong alcohol in the evening tended to produce, and Hakkai hummed gently and somewhat tunelessly to himself as he put together a small platter of cunningly disguised salad-and-sauce that was his tried and true device to sneak some extra vegetables into Gojyo’s diet. He added their usual sake and beer - they’d officially reached the point of events where the good stuff would be wasted on either of them (Hakkai’s tolerance having diminished somewhat over the years) - and headed back out to the living room, where Gojyo was listening to something or the other on the new stereo. 

Gojyo looked up at him from where he was sprawled on the couch, one hand dangling carelessly off the edge of the back, fingers curled securely around his beer (predictably just emptied) and the other arm stretched over the back of the couch, forming a loosely relaxed T. He gave Hakkai a lazy little grin with just a tinge of leer, exactly the right amount to warm him down to his toes and leave him feeling quietly and thoroughly desired. “Hey, you,” he murmured, voice soft-edged, subtly blurred from the really quite excellent (and really quite strong) alcohol they’d been drinking all evening. 

Hakkai smiled at him fondly, setting his tray down as Gojyo put his empty bottle away, pleased with the carefully modulated way he was drinking. It was a speed and care that Hakkai associated with the good kind of drunk - and there were far more of those, now, than the bad kind. “Hello yourself,” he returned, settling in tidily against him, Gojyo a line of sake-heated comfort down his side and across his shoulders. “I assumed you’d want beer instead of sake at this point.” 

That observation got him a little kiss to his hair, Gojyo snagging the beer with his other hand while he tucked Hakkai against his side, an arm draped in gently proprietary fashion over Hakkai’s shoulders, wrapping Hakkai up in the soap-and-smoke of his scent. “Oh, yeah.” He sounded absurdly pleased with Hakkai for that, as if Hakkai’s little bit of analysis was something far more precious than the tiny consideration it was. “No surprises left, I guess.”

Hakkai chuckled softly at that remark. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” 

Gojyo grinned at him around his cigarette. “No? Good deal.”

“I heard you were teaching some children _terrible_ Sanskrit swearwords at market day last week. I hadn't realised you'd acquired any.” The gaggle of women who had informed Hakkai of this had been suitably scandalised at the idea of their little innocents being so instructed, which had amused him endlessly, though not as much as their notion that the children wouldn’t have found out about such things on their own anyway. 

Gojyo was grinning entirely unrepentantly at that, clearly enjoying the memory. “Best part of travelling, learning new things.”

“And the best part of being home is traumatising mothers for life, is it?” 

Hakkai left his tone chiding, but he could hardly suppress his smile at the image of Gojyo surrounded by a gaggle of delightedly scandalised little girls and boys, and Gojyo’s grin indicated that he was well aware of that. “Well,” he said, adorably ‘innocent’, using the voice that had persuaded Hakkai into many pleasurable and unwise decisions over the years, “if the kids can’t go to the culture…” He took a long swig of his beer and then beamed at Hakkai, which very nearly got him kissed to within an inch of his life. 

“Ah, I see,” Hakkai agreed, nodding dutifully. “It was about broadening their educational horizons.”

“Fuck yeah,” Gojyo grinned. “I can teach too.”

“Somehow, I doubt they'll be hiring you in the school any time soon,” Hakkai noted, resting his cheek on Gojyo’s shoulder, taking a sip of his sake.

Gojyo beamed at him shamelessly. “Private tutor.”

“Ah, it seems I’ll have competition then.” Actually, that might even be a good idea, Hakkai mused. The town still hadn’t recovered from the loss of skilled labour due to the Wave, and having Gojyo take on a few apprentices might do more to help than Gojyo running himself ragged trying to ensure everyone was ready for the seasons. 

That statement earned him a snort. “Yeah, not sure they'll pay me to teach their kids to swear in seven languages.”

“ _Seven_?” Hakkai asked. He’d only learned of six, or so he thought. 

Gojyo snickered. “Well, one's pretty much just local shit-talk, so I don't know if it counts.”

Hakkai cleared his throat, smiling. “Local.... slang would probably count in terms of communication only.” Gojyo’s only response was to click his tongue and drink his beer, such a familiar response that it ached a little to see, and Hakkai smiled fondly. “You really do have a facility for languages, though - that hasn’t changed.” A second after he said it, he realised what he’d said, but by then Gojyo was already frowning at him.

“Huh?’

Hakkai blinked a little, gathering his thoughts, belatedly annoyed with himself for blurting that out. Really, his life had been significantly simpler before he’d attained an age that could be called Respectable and discovered that a decreased alcohol tolerance came with it. “Oh. I meant….before.” He made a vague gesture that they’d learned to employ to shorthand ‘that reincarnation thing in which we were rebellious gods who apparently had lots of sex and caused lots of mayhem’. “Before, before.”

Gojyo nodded a few times, squeezing Hakkai’s shoulder vaguely. Hakkai sometimes wondered if he even knew he did that. “Ah. Right.” He gave Hakkai a slightly puzzled look, as if baffled by the notion of his own competence. “I guess, yeah?”

Hakkai nodded firmly. “You could certainly speak more than I could.” The knowledge dropped easily into his mind, but he had to fumble for the rest, leaving him wondering yet again what the parameters were for remembering or forgetting. “Read fewer, though, perhaps.” 

Gojyo shrugged. “Seems right. If I can't say it, I don't need it, I guess.” 

“That would seem to ring true.” Hakkai took refuge in his ochoko for a minute, to marshal his thoughts. It really ought to get easier to discuss this, but the awkwardness of wrestling tenses and identities persisted despite their growing ease with the subject itself. 

Gojyo was eyeing him out of the corner of his eye, carefully. “You still getting more, too?” He made the same gesture as Hakkai had, finishing with a tiny finger-waggle that caught Hakkai’s eye for some reason, long graceful fingers wrapping around concepts words wouldn’t.

“Oh, yes,” Hakkai replied, a little startled to realise that the timelines on them matched perfectly. “They seem to have taken our discussing them as an invitation.” 

The little sound Gojyo made in response to that was frustratingly opaque, and not for the first time, Hakkai wondered what kinds of layers Gojyo was preserving under his easy acceptance of this...thing that had been dropped on them so unexpectedly. “Seems like, yeah. Getting more and more, lately.”

Hakkai cleared his throat, reaching for one of the beans he brought out, dipping it in the sauce he'd made and offering Gojyo a bite. He’d long discovered that that was the simplest way to get Gojyo to start eating something when tipsy. Once he’d had a bite, he’d finish the rest off automatically. “Yes. Especially the... more prurient ones.” Those had been the final nail in the coffin of his concern that this was some sort of karmic punishment that they were misinterpreting horribly - no one could possibly consider those memories to be less than, well, memorable. Or memorably amazing. “Or perhaps that's simply how well-represented that was.” Which was, in fact, quite a viable explanation. He’d never considered that any past incarnation of himself could have been quite so, well, _carnal._ (The thought had occurred to him that he and Gojyo didn’t have that much lower libidos, but perhaps that was best not considered.) To be fair, Hakkai would readily acknowledge that Kenren was in fact entirely too attractive, in much the same way that Gojyo was entirely too attractive, and he couldn’t blame his past self too much for wanting him more or less constantly.

Gojyo snorted softly. “Yeah, even if you don’t count the times you tried to cripple me.”

That brought Hakkai’s musings on the exact extent to which either, both or neither of them were responsible for their clearly excessively indiscreetly gleeful concupiscence to a screeching halt. “Cripple you?” 

The look that Gojyo gave him was one he was more accustomed to seeing directed at Goku when he was being particularly obstinate. “Hell, yeah.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Why the fuck they even bother to tell him that he gets days off is completely fucking beyond him. Every damn time he winds up having a ‘quick look’ at something, or doing ‘just one little thing’ or squeezing a debriefing into one of the Commander’s ‘openings’ between meetings. He should probably bitch more, but considering the amount of getting away with shit under his belt, maybe not.

Tenpou isn’t in the front room when he gets back with the food. They’d just bathed that morning, so he’s probably in the bedroom. Reading. Possibly sleeping by now, though Kenren hasn’t really been gone that long. A clean Tenpou tends to be a sleepy Tenpou, which is why Kenren usually has something that needs tending to afterward. Witnessing one pathetic fight between horny and sleepy had been more than enough.

He puts the bag in his hand down on his way to the bedroom - nothing in it is going to suffer for sitting there for a while, and a nap sounds pretty good right now, actually - and heads back to the bedroom. Sure enough, there’s Tenpou, sprawled out on the bed and crashed. It’s the most relaxed Kenren has seen him in while, shirtless, pants slung low on his hips, bare feet, hair lying dark against the light pillow...and glasses still on, a little off-kilter. Still fucking pretty, no matter how much Kenren looks at the guy. 

He’s opening his belt buckle when Tenpou’s eyelids flutter open and a warm “Good afternoon,” floats to him on soft breath. Kenren grins at Tenpou, shrugging out of his jacket.

“Hey, you.” He watches Tenpou stretch, taking in the way his body moves, enjoying that every bit as much as he always does, then climbs up over him to claim kisses. Naturally, Tenpou’s more than willing to escalate, reaching up, still sleep mussed, to grab the skull on Kenren’s chest and hauling him in, the kiss much hungrier than Kenren had been going for. Not that he’s complaining even a tiny fucking bit. 

It’s like this with them - always has been - the almost frighteningly quick spark of desire, the chemistry that hasn’t dimmed or faded in all this time, so complete. He lowers himself to lie on Tenpou’s body - carefully, so to avoid digging the amulet into his chest again - and chuckles when Tenpou makes a soft kind of growling sound against his mouth, lean thighs pressing to Kenren’s sides, long fingers tangling into his hair. He gives himself over to Tenpou’s lead for a while, moving against him a little, just to feel it. Eventually, he breaks away to speak against Tenpou’s mouth, “So, you were saving up energy for when I got back, then?”

One of Tenpou’s eyebrows arches over the slightly askew rim of his glasses. “Are you planning to exhaust me?” 

"Maybe,” Kenren replies as he pushes back to his knees so he can tug the chain over his head and toss it over to land on his duster. Tenpou pouts a little bit (as if the fucking thing hasn’t injured them both, but Kenren lets it go because Tenpou still thinks it’s cute) and the hand he curls around Kenren’s neck couples with the sharp, promising smirk to make him shiver.

“What if I want to exhaust you instead?”

Now Kenren grins back, a deep, familiar thrill sliding through him. “Figure you can?” It’s a needless goad, but it’ll ratchet up Tenpou’s response, and Kenren likes Tenpou at high tension. The other hand closes around his shoulder as Tenpou’s smirk turns to a predatory grin. 

“Is that a challenge?” Tenpou asks, but he doesn’t want an answer. Kenren resists just enough to satisfy as Tenpou shoves him over and rolls smoothly up over him. Kenren’s breath freezes in his chest when he lands, though, the right side of his body stiffening hard, his kidney exploding in agony. 

Tenpou pulls back immediately, his eyes huge behind his (even more off-kilter) glasses, his hands going gentle on Kenren’s skin. “...are you all right?” Kenren can hear the concern, and he’ll answer just as soon as he remembers breathing. It feels like several hours before he’s able to move again, Tenpou’s weight disappearing just as his breath returns. He rolls to his left, on hand automatically reaching for the pain, a sharp bark of laughter tearing from him. Dimly, Tenpou’s hiss reaches his ears, “Fuck, the _book_ ,” and he knows exactly what happened.

“ _Fuck_ the book,” Kenren returns sharply, slightly breathless, still. 

“How bad is it?” Tenpou asks, hands on Kenren’s back to begin working out the charlie horse in the soft tissue below his ribs as Kenren rolls obediently to his stomach. “...I apologise.” 

That ain’t coming out easily, that’s for fucking sure. He’s going to need a lot more massage and a scalding bath. And liniment. And rest. Damn it. 

“Gonna have to exhaust yourself.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hakkai was studying the plate of vegetables quite intently by the time Gojyo was finished, struggling to keep from making either the horrified noise that was his first reaction, or the unfortunately amused one that was his second. The story was….unexpectedly reasonable, and surprisingly recognisable, considering it involved him being the kind of irresponsible _and_ untidy person who would leave a hardcover under blankets, and he couldn’t find any remark except to say, sheepishly, “Well, I don’t seem to recall having done this…”

Gojyo shook his head, leaning over to put his cigarette out, exhaling his response with smoke. “Yeah, I got to remember the pain, so.”

Hakkai winced, nodding a little in agreement, muttering almost to himself. “I really was _very_ disorganised.” Which was probably a terrible lesson to take from this story, but Hakkai had never argued with people who described his cleaning behaviours as compulsive. 

Gojyo nudged him affectionately, and Hakkai looked up to see him grinning at him, practically beaming. “Karma got you, though.”

That was simply too good an opportunity to resist, and Hakkai, whose powers of resistance when it came to teasing Gojyo had never been very strong, fell to it readily. “Of course,” he confided to the beans, indirectly guiding Gojyo’s attention to them in the process, “that does raise the possibility of it having been karma's effect in the first place.”

“Huh?” Gojyo said, giving him a confused look as he leaned forward to grab a bean and dip it in the sauce, before holding the sneaky implement of health up. “Don’t think I didn’t notice this.”

“Old Jin had a lovely crop this year, didn’t he?”

Gojyo made a loudly skeptical noise before biting into the beam pointedly. “Now make with the explanation.”

Hakkai smiled sweetly at him, because Gojyo was still eating the bean, after all. “Well, it's not as if you haven't had your own share of interesting and inconveniencing circumstances when it comes to sex.”

“Pfft.”

“At the very least,” Hakkai posited earnestly, “you were a _shockingly_ effective enabler.” He nodded very firmly for emphasis.

Judging by Gojyo’s cracking up, he hadn’t emphasised it nearly enough, and as lovely as it was to hear the rich, warm sound of his laughter, Hakkai couldn’t help but feel a vague desire to prove him at least a little wrong. “You wish,” Gojyo chortled.

Hakkai raised an eyebrow. “Surely I wouldn't even have to go as far back as a previous life to provide you with ample proof of _that_ , Gojyo,” he said mildly enough. 

Gojyo smirked at him, unfazed. “Yeah, 'cause you got nothing, back there.”

It was very obviously a goad, and it worked, principally because Hakkai was annoyed that Gojyo would know that Hakkai would be annoyed by it, though he was amused, as well. “Well, then, I'm afraid I'll have to dispel your surprising lack of faith in me.”

Gojyo chomped back the rest of the bean and grinned at him, bright mischief. “I dare you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kenren shifts his feet as he exhales a slow, controlled breath, sighting the beast down the barrel of his tranquilizer gun. Tenpou’s got in the last two shots and it’s looking like working, but...he shoots, just to be sure, nodding to himself as the huge body lumbers sideways and into the wall - too soon to be Kenren’s shot, so maybe that one wasn’t necessary, but hey, no one’s wall jam right now - then across the cave floor to collapse in a shuddering heap just scant feet in front of them. He can hear Tenpou’s sharp exhalation, matching his own, and he looks up to find a grin that matches his own, too, bright and maybe a little bit unhinged, dirt-streaked and sweaty from the chase.

Ridiculously fucking hot, is what he is.

Tenpou seems to feel the same way, reaching out for Kenren’s collar and hauling him in close. “That was fucking _perfect_ ,” he murmurs against Kenren’s mouth, then kisses him hard. Kenren has a moment of panic before he remembers that he scattered the rest of the men for the chase, and all right then. He wraps his gun arm tightly around Tenpou’s waist, returning his kiss just as fiercely, fuelled by excitement and adrenaline. Tenpou holds him just a little bit tighter, bites at his mouth, knowing exactly what that does to Kenren, rolling hips against him suggestively, and fuck yeah, he’ll take it. They may not have much time, but that’s never stopped them before, and it’s not like they can get caught out, what with the loose scree of stones outside; nothing can even get close to this cave without making an unholy racket.

So Kenren makes for Tenpou’s belts with his free hand, ducking his head to bite down on the tiny sliver of throat that Tenpou’s collar allows him, his body tight and hot and hard, exhilarated and aching for touch. Suddenly remembering that he has it, he tosses the tranq gun to the ground in favour of grabbing Tenpou’s gorgeous ass, pulling him in close for rough, promising friction. Tenpou wriggles obligingly against him, pulling a soft groan from him for all the things he has to get around before he can do anything about that. 

One belt open, he heads for the second, and Tenpou’s giving as good as he gets, teeth pinching Kenren’s ear with a soft moan, one hand tugging at Kenren’s zipper. Kenren makes short work of the buckles in his way, needing to get Tenpou’s duster open, to touch, already anticipating the feel of his Marshal pinned under him...or over him. Whatever, he’s not picky, just as long as there's fucking and orgasms. Then Tenpou’s voice practically purrs in his ear, low and heated, “That’s it General, touch me...fuck me,” and fuck, yes, he can do that.

“That an order, Marshal?” Kenren breathes, then bites at Tenpou’s ear in turn while all but tears Tenpou’s zipper open, greedy for the body underneath. Thin fabric of Tenpou’s undertunic under his fingers, teasing cover over the skin he wants as he slips his arm in to curl around Tenpou’s waist.

Leather and skin press snugly around Kenren’s throat, Tenpou making a fiercely pleased little sound for the bit to his own ear. “You’re damn right it is.” and Tenpou bites back again, jaw, the soft place underneath, words felt against Kenren’s skin almost as much as heard. “I’m ordering you to slide your cock into me and fuck me.” Kenren shivers roughly, shoving Tenpou’s duster open with one hand, the other slipping under his shirt as Tenpou goes on, “Hard. Deep. Until you have to gag me to stop me screaming.” And Kenren groans, half miserable that there are still clothes in the way of immediate obedience. Not that he’s going to let that slow him down.

Finally able to manage completely, Kenren moves to get the duster out of the way, hungry for the feel of Tenpou against him, around him, shifting his stance a little, stone scrabbling against stone in his ear as he licks at Tenpou’s deliciously exposed throat. “Yes, _sir._ ” Tenpou writhes against him all over again, questing fingers touching his skin, now, too, and suddenly shoving hard at him, breaking his hold.

Before Kenren can react, Tenpou’s hissing “They’re here.” and stepping back, away, leaving Kenren cold and aching. _Pissed._ He takes quick stock and realises he’s the most dressed, and the closest to his usual look, so he heads for the front of the cave. “Your duster,” he murmurs to Tenpou on the way out to stall the men so Tenpou can get decent. Also, “ _Fuck._ ”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hakkai finished his story, and gave Gojyo a very mild look that he was keenly aware Gojyo would interpret as triumphant. “And so, you see.”

Gojyo simply huffed. “Seems like you started that one.”

Well, that was….accurate, but not quite the take-away Hakkai had hoped to provide from that. “I was being quite thoroughly Invited to. Besides, a kiss would not have been as inappropriate as, say, starting to undress me. Which you did.”

Gojyo shoved affectionately at him with his shoulder, snorting a little laugh. “Ain't up to me to control you. And the fuck were you planning to fuck all wrapped up?”

Hakkai put on his most Teacherly voice, raising his finger. “That's precisely the point, Gojyo, in assigning the blame to you.”

Gojyo snorted even more loudly this time. “Still, it wasn't like I was jamming rocks into your spine. Or worse.”

“You say that as if I made a habit of causing you mild damage.” Hakkai considered that, and then amended, for accuracy’s sake, “In a non-negotiated fashion.”

The addendum drew a particularly smug smirk from Gojyo. “Yeah, except you did.” He nodded very vigorously, clearly very pleased with himself. “You ever remember the tree? 'Cause the tree was worse.”

Something stirred in his memory for that, sparking embarrassment and a vague sort of guilt even before he was quite aware what it was he had to be embarrassed _about_. “It’s not very clear,” Hakkai hedged, as truthfully as he could.

Gojyo cracked up softly, taking a dramatic swig of his beer. “Let me remind you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s a good day to be up a tree, which is precisely where Kenren has been for the past couple of hours. He tilts his head, sipping at his sake as he watches Tenpou navigate up from the somewhat lower, much safer branch Kenren had suggested, to the one on which Kenren himself is sitting. It’s strong enough for both of them, for sure (Tenpou weighs approximately as much as a bundle of twigs, or possibly a small bag of rice), but it’s kind of narrow and set enough apart from the nearest ones to it to admit Kenren comfortably.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Tenpou beams at him, his face quite fetchingly flushed from the climb, actually, and Kenren can only snort softly and shake his head.

“The fuck? This ain’t any kind of safe.”

Tenpou just chuckles, waving that off. “I thought you were the famous risk-taker.”

He can’t stop himself huffing a bit at that, his ego ruffled just a little. “Within reason, and there’s not a lot of reason to take the chance going on right now, is there?” 

This, apparently, is some kind of challenge, according to Tenpou. He leans over, bracing himself entirely too precariously, to plant a quick, thoroughly filthy kiss on Kenren’s mouth.

“How’s that for a reason?” Tenpou smirks, an expression that he seems to be slowly stealing from Kenren, and Kenren, oh so very predictably, grins. He simply can’t help himself when it comes to this guy.

“Mm. I’m beginning to understand the argument.” And perhaps there are things Kenren’s stealing, too. It earns him a conspiratorial little smile.

“I thought you might be,” Tenpou murmurs against Kenren’s lips, and kisses him again, every bit as filthily as he did before. Kenren reacts automatically, his body still as stupidly responsive to Tenpou as it was the first time they kissed. A deep, appreciative kind of sound rumbles in his throat as he reaches up to cup the side of Tenpou’s neck keeping him close - and steadying him a little bit. Tenpou answers with a soft hand on Kenren’s shoulder and a deliberate concession of control in the kiss, sparking Kenren to take it instead. Again, predictably, rising need to take Tenpou over, to pin him and make him _his,_ familiar and no less overwhelming for it. 

Kenren just sinks into this for a long moment, enjoying the kiss, deepening it, liking the way Tenpou leans against him so very invitingly. Of course, that doesn’t change things, so eventually Kenren breaks the kiss to ask, “So, you figured you’d just climb up and....what? We’d fuck, up a tree?”

“Well, I hadn’t thought as far forward as fucking,” Tenpou just plain lies, as far as Kenren can tell, “but now that you mention it…” Okay, it’s a lie, but it’s a purely game lie, and Kenren isn’t as surprised as he should be, to find that the idea of sitting up here, so very nearly completely exposed, while Tenpou jerks him off is actually pretty enticing. So he grins.

“Come here, then,” he murmurs, shifting his legs to dangle on either side of the branch and tugging at Tenpou’s labcoat to get him to scoot closer, kissing him all over again. It takes a bit of squirming for Tenpou to get stable enough to abandon one hand to tangle into Kenren’s hair, and that’s just fucking delicious, edge of danger and transgression sharpening nascent pleasure. Tenpou relaxes a little bit, leaning more heavily against Kenren’s chest, and it feels good to have him there, scent of Tenpou and sakura, sake on his tongue and smoke on Tenpou’s lips, excited by the promise of weird and wonderful sex on the horizon. “I want you hand on my cock, Tenpou,” Kenren murmurs against his mouth, knowing how much Tenpou likes to hear these things.

He’s reaching for Tenpou’s pants, more than happy to return the favour he’s demanding, when Tenpou nods and makes for Kenren’s clothes. Too quickly; he can feel it before he can see it it or properly register it. Years and years of hanging out in trees has made balance so instinctive that he already knows he won’t be able to stop it, Tenpou grasping for him and then deliberately letting go, trying to save Kenren from falling with him, but it’s too late, way too late, and he’s going over, too, fingers scraping bark and purchasing nothing as it occurs to him that they’re about to be fucked, all right...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It probably made him a _terrible_ person that his first response was to laugh, but it was quite involuntary, too caught by the image of the two of them falling out of a tree (and probably onto or beside some poor unsuspecting gods) because of their chronic inability to not engage in ludicrously risky sex. It only took him a little while to pull himself together, but by then Gojyo was already grinning at him with the grin that Gojyo got when he won arguments, especially when the arguments were against Hakkai.

“Well,” Hakkai attempted gamely, attaching a Very Stern look to his argument, “it seems I must concede my precipitation of the immediate accident in question, though I can hardly be faulted for following your instructions. I _was_ your adjutant, after all.” The Look might have succeeded better if he’d managed to keep from letting the odd chuckle escape during his statement, but as it was, Hakkai considered himself to have put in a stellar effort.

Gojyo raised his eyebrow a little higher, all lazy certainty of success, now, and Hakkai felt briefly, bizarrely proud of him for being to hide so effectively the precise ratio of actual smugging and intentional goading in that grin. “And you still kissed first. _Marshal._ Shouldn’t be up trees, if you can’t balance.”

Hakkai smiled at him, taking a leisurely sip of sake. “And, of course, my current complete non-arboreality would indicate that I have taken that lesson entirely to heart.”

Gojyo made a little _snerk_ noise into his beer. “Sure, sure. Got nothing to do with the fact that I don't climb trees.”

This time, Hakkai gave him a Smile, and he knew quite well that Gojyo would know the difference. “Well, I could posit the theory that it'd be my duty to follow you wherever you might go.”

Gojyo laughed harder for that, small vibrations of his chuckles against Hakkai’s hand where he’d braced it on his chest to look at him, sound layered over the steady beat of his pulse. “Like you don’t still outrank me, here.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, General,” Hakkai offered mildly.

“Uh-huh. Exactly.”

Hakkai was grinning quite helplessly now, an expression that felt somewhat strange on his face. Even more strangely, it felt strangely familiar. “Of course,” he said, and leaned up to kiss Gojyo’s cheek gently, just because he could, and to see the way his grin softened for it, even now. 

Predictably, Gojyo smiled at him very gently, a softness in it that always caught at Hakkai’s heart. “Always been me following you. Everywhere not trees, anyway.” 

That would hurt - had hurt, in the past, his knowledge that Gojyo’s childhood life was partially Hakkai’s responsibility as well, but that wasn’t a thing for today, and Hakkai shoved it ruthlessly into a corner, and put Gojyo’s reminder that he’d do it over again on top of it like a cork. “I couldn’t ask for better,” he settled on saying, soft and utterly serious, before he put that away, offering Gojyo a slice of carrot covered with the dipping sauce. “Besides, you have better followers when it comes to climbing trees.”

Gojyo grinned at him, all bounce again, shaking his head as he took the carrot. “Wasn't _just_ trees with that kid, either. Monkey, sure, but I swear he's half badger.”

Hakkai snorted softly, a far more Gojyo sound than one he’d produce, himself, but the memory that brought up deserved no less. “ _Barger_ , you mean.” He wondered vaguely if Gojyo would remember this one - while the ‘important’ memories tended to surface in both of them, the rest seemed to be quite a random grab bag of minutes and memories. 

Gojyo gave him a curious look. “Yeah?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A sound slides from Kenren that sounds suspiciously like a growl, even to himself, as Tenpou pins him hard between his own body and the bookshelf. It’s digging into Kenren’s ribs where Tenpou’s weight presses him against hard wood, hips trapped between it and the rolling of Tenpou’s hips. Hot breath feathers over his ear, “I think I’m going to fuck you up against my books like this,” followed by the sharp pinch of teeth on the rim.

Kenren chuckles at that, reaching back to tangle one hand into Tenpou’s hair, gripping it hard as he pushes back against the hard length of Tenpou’s cock, pressed so promisingly against his ass. “Fucking weird-ass perversions you’ve got.”

He can feel Tenpou grinning against his skin as one hand slides around to tug Kenren’s pants open, long fingers slipping right inside to close around his cock, a soft, pleased kind of sound in his ear for it. “I thought fucking you was fairly standard, as far as perversions go,” Tenpou replies, then nips at Kenren’s neck.

“Nothing unusual about that,” Kenren huffs. “The fucking _books,_ Marshal.” He bites his lip as he rocks into the unfairly amazing sensation of Tenpou’s hand on his cock, moaning for it, encouraging him to give him more.

Tenpou’s smiling again, softer than before, but Kenren can feel it in the way Tenpou’s cheek presses against his skin, the sound of his breath, so close and a touch all its own. He can tell there’s snark coming, and Tenpou doesn’t disappoint, murmuring, “I’m not fucking any-” Kenren practically yelps as a loud bang fills the room and Tenpou’s whole body jerks hard, driving wood against bone and leaving Kenren reeling, trying to grasp what the fuck just happened.

“Hey, Ten-chan,” a familiar voice calls out, “look, I got cherries, and they’re big and sweet and _awesome!_ ” 

Kenren manages not to swear out loud as he realises they’ve been irreparably invaded by a Goku. He reaches down quickly to tug Tenpou’s hand out of his pants (and he’s going to be charitable and believe that Tenpou’s just too surprised to do it, himself). Thank fuck he’s facing away from the kid, holy shit. Tenpou takes the hint, though, pulling away and turning around, keeping his body between Kenren and Goku.

“Hello, Goku,” Tenpou says, and Kenren’s pretty sure the kid won’t know that he’s getting a patented Fake Smile. Hunched over, Kenren frantically works to tuck his (incredibly unhappy) cock back into his pants and get them done up as quickly and discreetly as possible. 

Not quickly enough.

“Hey, Ken nii-chan! You can have some too, if you want!” Kenren can hear the grin on the kid, can practically see the huge, honey-coloured eyes, even with his back still turned. Fortunately, he seems to turn his attention back to Tenpou. “Konzen didn’t want any, and he told me to come share them with you, instead.” A sound like about a ton of bouncy kid hitting the couch, and then Goku asks brightly, “What you doing?”

There’s a particular quality to the sound of Tenpou Controlling Himself, and even if Kenren didn’t know it intimately - which he does - he’d be tipped off by the excessively sweet tone when Tenpou answers Goku, “I’m helping Ken nii-chan pick out some nice books to read.” It’s a completely shit explanation, but Goku’s not been around them long enough to know their tells, so it works. “Of course Konzen wouldn’t want anyone’s cherries,” Tenpou moves on, with a new edge in his voice, and Kenren has to bite the inside of his lip to keep quiet. “Why don’t you go wash your hands so we can eat them?”

Goku trundles off in the direction of the bathroom, and Kenren finally manages to get his duster fastened well enough to hide his still-insistent hard-on as he quietly informs the books, “I’m going to beat Konzen to death.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gojyo hissed between his teeth, shaking his head. “Ah, fuck, that kid...” He still couldn’t stop laughing; he’d started chuckling when Hakkai described Goku coming in, and burst into howls of laughter interspersed by little wheezy _Cherry-chan_ s at Tenpou’s remark to Goku. Eventually, it trailed off, and he dragged in a deep breath, petting Hakkai absently on the shoulder and neck as he did. “Couldn't even kick him out, 'cause he'd get the Big Eyes and shit.”

Hakkai gave him a look of helpless empathy. “I think you wound up giving him oranges to take back with him. ....he really is lethal.”

“We're so fucking lucky he grew up,” Gojyo said fervently. 

“A sentiment I must endorse.” Hakkai sighed. “A shame his appetite hasn’t decreased.”

Gojyo snorted, taking a deep swig of his beer and lighting up again. “Least he was distractable.”

Well, and wasn’t that just an oddly comparative kind of statement. “Unlike…?” Hakkai ventured. His first thought was Konzen, of course, but he couldn’t remember anything like that. And since his chances of proving even an equally instigatory role were slipping away fast, he really hoped Gojyo didn’t have anything about him. 

Gojyo gave him a significant look. “Unlike the fucking _dragon_. Couldn’t even blow that guy into relaxing, man.”

Of course. The dragon. Hakkai had been not thinking about him. It wasn’t that he was unhappy about it - though he didn’t know what to think of it - and certainly not that he judged them for it. He simply didn’t understand how they could just… _acquire_ someone, like that. And then just have him. It was completely baffling. “Ah, yes. Him.” Hakkai blinked a little, considering the weird that he was. “No, he never was very good at relaxing, was he?”

Gojyo gave him a slow blink, as if he was assessing Hakkai’s reaction to Goujun, but continued without addressing it. “Nope. I fucking swear he got off on being a buzzkill.” 

As a statement, it seemed ridiculous, but as a concept, it made far too much sense. Hakkai tilted his head, considering that. “Do you think so?”

Gojyo made a sharp little sound of amusement around his beer. “You kidding me? Fucker was forever bitching us out, even when there was no chance of getting caught.”

That did spark a few...memorable...memories, and Hakkai grinned a little despite himself. “You have to admit that we often did have a good chance of getting caught.” The tree thing alone…. “Perhaps he was just redistributing his rage.”

Gojyo shrugged, grinning. “Well, yeah, sometimes. You know about the parade grounds, though?”

“What about the parade grounds?” Hakkai asked, dreading this information in a pleasant sort of way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fitness evaluation days are some of Kenren’s favourite days. Well, maybe not all of them, but this one absolutely is. He’s watching his men round the corner of the two-kilometer track, facing toward him, now and close enough that he doesn’t need the binoculars unless he needs to know something specific. Which he doesn’t. Tenpou was supposed to be watching with him, but he’s...otherwise occupied at the moment, and Kenren’s well more than happy with that. One hand braced on the balustrade of the little balcony, he’s leaning forward, eyes on the field, mind on something else entirely, so he doesn’t notice until too late that-

“ _General!_

-the Commander’s decided to drop by. He’s coming up the stairs with that look on him - the one that means unpleasant things on the horizon - and Kenren gives holding him off with indulgence a shot, firing off a much less half-assed salute than usual, and favouring the dragon with a grin. 

“‘Morning, Commander.”

Apparently unimpressed, Goujun looks out to the field to judge the proximity of the platoon and makes a face, then hisses up to Kenren with quiet ferocity, “Aren’t you supposed to be out there training with your men?”

Kenren lets go of the balustrade, standing up a little straighter (still not enough to give the impression that he’s actually Behaving Himself or anything, but a bit) and calls back (though not as loudly because damn the dragon, he’s still coming up the stairs), “I thought that I’d try making a proper report this time.” He grins. “For you. Sir.” A small, amused sound requires controlling as Goujun seems to consider this explanation, still moving inexorably up the stairs.

“Is that so?” Goujun asks, his eyes narrowing a little. “And where’s your...Marshal...this morning?”

Kenren swallows hard, evening his breath and clearing his throat, before he can answer, “He’s...taking in other things, sir.” Swallows again, blinking as serenely as he can manage at the commander, who abjectly refuses not to finish coming up the stairs. And onto the balcony, from where he can see very well just where the Marshal is, and what he’s taking in. Tenpou gives him a jaunty little wave. Kenren settles on a little shrug and smile. 

Goujun manages not to splutter by what is clearly sheer force of regal will.

He crosses the distance between them in short order, a low, animalian growl in his throat, and - utterly ignoring Tenpou and his activities - snaps at Kenren, “Perhaps he should put in a little less indirect an appearance on the field, don’t you think? _General?_ ”

Finger still tight in Tenpou’s hair, Kenren leans back a little, in order to improve Goujun’s viewing experience without giving them away to those below. They’ve rounded the corner, anyway, and are back-on to the balcony, but he can feel that that’s the line he can’t cross, here. “I can hardly order a superior officer into training, Commander,” he answers reasonably.

With an admirably calm facade, Goujun looks out to the field again, assessing the position of the men. Looks back to Kenren and nods a little bit. Reaches out with terrifying speed and grabs hold of Kenren’s hair, hauling him back and away from Tenpou’s mouth, eliciting matching sounds of petulance (Tenpou) and loss (Kenren) as he practically snarls, “You two are _the_ most badly-behaved, oversexed bastards around.”

“Come on…” Kenren ventures, distracted by the suddenly cold, bereft state of his cock.

“No,” Goujun barks. “There will be absolutely _no_ coming, coming on, or coming onto for at least the next three hours!”

Kenren brightens a little, because he didn’t exclude _into._ “You could join us…”

Goujun starts at that, nearly yelping, “What? No!”

“It’s really quite fun once you’re into it,” Tenpou reasons helpfully from the floor, and Goujun’s regal will gives up and just lets him splutter.

Kenren waggles an eyebrow at the commander and wheedles, “You know you want to.”

“No,” Goujun replies, reaching for his composure and only missing by several feet, “I do not want to disgrace myself by receiving illicit blowjobs on the training field, thank you, General.” Kenren doubts very much that that is actually the case, but the difference between ‘want’ and ‘will’ with Goujun can be oceans wide. He sighs, slumping a little.

“You sure?”

Goujun gaped. “Yes! I’m sure! I just told you not to do this thing! How did we get from there to me having to say that I do not also want to do this thing?!” 

Well, and Kenren knows Goujun well enough to know that that’s the last piece of good ground he has on this, so he shoots Tenpou a sad look and reluctantly tucks himself back into his pants. Goujun simply huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sure your libido will survive,” he huffs.

Kenren shakes his head and bites back a piece of sarcasm that would be both funny and far too easy to misinterpret and gives Goujun a vastly degraded salute with one hand while he fastens his belt with the other. “Yes, sir.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hakkai desperately hoped he wasn’t blushing by the time Gojyo was done telling the story, because he certainly _felt_ as if he were blushing, and Gojyo would never let him hear the end of it if he did. A little desperately, because this _was_ supposed to be an argument and he wasn’t exactly winning, he ventured, “ ...that one seems much more concretely your fault, though.”

Gojyo burst into laughter, shaking his head. “The fuck do you figure that? I was actually working, and you just walked up, said hi and hit your knees.”

Well, and now he probably _was_ blushing after all, mostly for how uncomfortable he was with how comfortable part of him was with this scenario, suddenly imagining himself doing that to Gojyo, right out in public where anyone could conceivably stumble upon them, and right, definitely too uncomfortably comfortable with this. “Well, that information changes things,” he said, a little inanely, and cleared his throat, hoping Gojyo wouldn’t hear the speed with which part of his brain had diverted itself. 

Gojyo gave him a thoroughly smug little grin that meant that he’d quite possibly heard Hakkai’s responses all over his voice. “Uh-huh. Not so different, now. You're sneakier, though.”

Hakkai gave him a look that presumably - hopefully - contained some amount of shock and dismay in it. “I'm certainly not that.... indiscreet.” However, he was definitely that drawn to Gojyo, an attraction which (in its Kenren variation) was probably the root of Tenpou’s insane libido, now that he thought about it. Well, that boded…. well or not-well, depending on the perspective, he supposed. 

Gojyo, who clearly knew which side of that debate he preferred, grinned at him, waggling an eyebrow suggestively, making Hakkai laugh for the outrageously over-the-top perversion he packed into it. “No, huh?” His gaze swept over Hakkai, slow and hot, a thing of pure desire, complement to the way he was lounging, all loose grace, and it sparked a sharp response in Hakkai’s body, the need to touch and taste and take, to possess all that lazy hunger and make it _his_. “'S pretty hot, you know. Gets me all excited to think you want me like that.”

Ah, and that was confirmation and request, almost demand, infinitely sweet and filled with all kinds of filthy potential. A low laugh fell from Hakkai as he leaned in, letting his voice slide closer to the purr that he knew Gojyo loved hearing in his voice as he murmured, “Are you telling me to be more indiscreet in the future, Gojyo?”

Gojyo leaned in too, until their mouths were almost touching, bodies pressed close, his voice filled with stirring hunger, deep and sharp enough to cut away all of Hakkai’s inhibitions. “Fuck, yeah,” he murmured. “Lots.”

It had occurred to him before, a few times, that as furiously bright as Tenpou and Kenren had shone, as dangerously exciting as they’d made their lives, he still far preferred the quiet of his and Gojyo’s years together, the stability and comfort of what they’d built. He really was a hopeless homebody, it seemed, and for once, it seemed that Gojyo was right there with him. But they had their own fire between them, sparking in the warm grin Gojyo was giving him now, the heat of his body so close to Hakkai’s, and this… this was everything in the world to him, the slow conduction of desire between them, in Gojyo’s touch, the soft skin of the back of his neck as Hakkai curled his hand around it. He closed his other hand around the strap of Gojyo’s tank-top, tugging him firmly closer as he murmured, “Then I’ll have to see what I can do about that.” A promise, and the delicate promise of a threat, just to see the way it always made Gojyo smile when he did that, and the kiss that followed was the sweetest burn of all. 

~~x~~

Hakkai took Gojyo’s request to heart and his body to bed, tugging him gently up the stairs before too many drinks had passed. In the dark they twined around something new...or perhaps something old. Hakkai surrendered to the possessive intent that had risen in him earlier, pinning Gojyo down with hands and body (and perhaps just a little power, though he would never admit it) and taking those things that made Gojyo gasp and cry out, giving what made him tremble and moan. Over and over Hakkai curled hands into red hair, pressed the beloved body here, there, beneath, above, spreading _his_ Gojyo out and taking him in, taking him over and devouring every last sweet second of his pleasure and his desire, open and eager, filthy and just _perfect._


End file.
